by Aaron Jay
I decided to forget Constitution. I was a glass cannon. Given the level disparity and me fighting in here solo, I was never going to be able to survive via tanking. If I was taking hits I had already screwed up and another death was coming for me. Strength seemed the obvious move. An extra point of damage on every hit. But so far, I seemed able to deal damage fast enough.
I was getting experience at a pretty amazing clip. If I cleared this cavern I’d level at least a few more times. Soloing, level difference, and playing hardcore really stacked up the experience bonus. Fight smarter not harder. I decided to go for Intelligence. The biggest danger I faced was from traps. As I got closer to the dungeon’s level my magic would be more and more effective. I needed the flexibility magic offered.
I added the point to my intelligence. An odd tingling ran through my skull. For a moment, I thought a headache was coming on but instead I felt more awake than I had in a long while. There seemed to be a clarity to everything I noticed around me. After a few minutes everything settled down, and having nothing else to do I went back to work.
One square foot of cavern floor or wall looks a lot like the next. I had a hard time assessing if my search abilities were more effective. Until I found the next trap, or failed to, I wouldn’t know--even then I really wouldn’t know how I would have done without the additional intelligence point. All I could do was press on and hope that I wouldn’t stumble into a spiked pit or trip a wire that hit me with a poison-coated battle axe swung on a pendulum.
I worked my way through the cavern. First, searching for traps as I moved towards each group. Next, luring the groups of kobolds into web and then hack hack hack. I learned the kobolds’ moves and weak points. With increasing frequency, I was able to make sure any kobolds who fought their way free of the web had some status effect to help me finish them off. I learned to use the fear they seemed innately to feel of Wyrmmdigger’s Bane to shift and control them during a fight. Slowly, I was learning from my sword how to kill these things. What kinds of feints they would fall for. How to read their eyes or body language. How their bones and skeletons and internal organs were arranged to make the most of my attacks. Bane would slip at just the right angle between their ribs and seek out their vital organs. Bane knew its enemies and slowly taught me to use it to its full effect.
Bit by bit I cleared the cavern. As I had hoped, the experience kept coming at the same insane speed. By my calculation I was getting at least sixteen times as much experience per kill and quadruple the experience per successful trap detection compared to a typical player. The bonus for level difference, plus no luck, plus soloing this dungeon, meant I didn’t have to split experience gains with my party, the game, or anyone. After I found and carefully disarmed a plate of spikes set to pierce an unwary step, my detect trap skill finished moving up: I was now a beginner. This growth in trap detection and disarming was the silver lining of my glacial pace through the dungeon. The lack of hit points, lack of healing, and all the other lacks I suffered from meant that I still couldn’t risk triggering a trap. Whether I saw any glow or not, I tested every inch of the cavern as I went.
I also received my first useful drop in here. A health potion. If I could drink it fast enough I might be able to last through as much as three hits in a fight. I might survive a trap. But, I needed to save the potion in case I ran into something that I had no other way at all to survive, so inchworm Miles continued his slow crawl, relentlessly inspecting every surface as he went.
Spending days repetitively looking at dirt floors will change a man. My breath technique became less and less a conscious action. It was merely the rhythm to which I tried to look and sense. My mind couldn’t wander or I’d die, but wander it did. I had to just be in the moment and the moment was… well… boring. It was the oddest thing. I was in a life and death situation or at least a simulated death with a real-life threat of slavery hanging over my head, and it was boring. Even when I slept in the Pod back in reality my dreams were of me stuck in this endless underwold.
Despite the stakes, I couldn’t stop myself from being bored. What exactly does it mean to be boring? What does it mean to be bored?
A speech from Mordecai came back to me. He told me, “If there is a pot of water, covered with moss and water plants, then a man with a normal faculty of sight looking into it could not properly recognize and see the image of his own face. In the same way, when one's mind is possessed by sloth and torpor, overpowered by sloth and torpor, one cannot properly see the escape from sloth and torpor that have arisen.”
Whenever I found myself being bored or sleepy as I attempted to meditate, I reflected on my masters’ teachings about how attachment or distance was at the root of boredom, or of impatience, torpor, or sloth. They told me that we confuse an attraction or attachment to ever increasing excitement with happiness or contentment. We confuse stimulation with happiness and when we lack ever increasing stimulation, our focus wanders. Endlessly looking at tunnel floors and walls was empty of advancement. There was no stimulation of battle or levels or loot. This caused me to struggle to be present. I alternated between feeling drowsy and having more energy than I knew what to do with. It was hard to settle and my eyes would jump ahead not really seeing the patch of dirt I needed to examine. It was a struggle with myself to be able to focus on the details that would keep me alive. The boredom of a constant and monotonous struggle oppressed me, even if it was to escape a lifetime of slavery. My faculty of sight was being clouded by this boredom. I would find myself re-examining the same patch. or concerned that I hadn’t really looked at a segment of the wall.
Mordecai and Lemminkäinen had offered suggestions when they saw me yawn or struggle with boredom or sleepiness while meditating, but many of these weren’t available to me. I couldn’t stop and look at the sky. No examining the clouds and sun or the stars. I couldn’t focus my awareness inwards either. I couldn’t focus on my body or attempt to find my internal light. I couldn’t think of questions about the nature of reality. I had to be in the moment and look at what was right in front of me. I decided to focus on the dharma of this task. To repeat in my mind that seeing what was, experiencing reality or at least this reality, was life itself. It was freedom. Seeing the pebble in front of me for what it was, this was the difference between life and death. Seeing the true nature of a small crevasse was freedom or slavery. Was this stone just a stone or was it an illusion hiding a painful death?
Slowly a certain kind of enlightenment came to me. My work became meaningful, I grew content. For longer and longer stretches I was neither sleepy nor jittery in my repetitive task. Slowly I learned to make all of me into the act of perception itself. I looked at each rock or bit of sand with contentment.
Tring!
Congratulations! You have unlocked your first feat!
You have achieved the feat: Perception.
Most of us see what we want to see or what we expect to see. To see what actually is eludes most.
Improves: Appraise, Listen, Search, Spot skills.
None of the tutorials or training we got in school ever mentioned Feats. Was this part of the hardcore mode? I looked for more details using the in-game help. No. This looked like it might actually be part of the typical game. I queried the AIs for clarification and a message came right back.
Dear Miles,
Yes. Feats exist in the game as played by everyone. Until you have unlocked a feat the AIs are not allowed to discuss them. Even afterward we really can’t say much besides acknowledging that they exist. As per Amulius’ directive I must inform you that you are not to tell anyone of this aspect of the game. Revelation of feats to another player, whether purposeful or unintentional, shall be punished with loss of the feat and permanent debuffs of deaf, blind, and mute. See no feats, hear no feats, say no feats.
Sincerely,
Rea Silvia
The Party: those evil sons of bitches. How could they suppress and hide something like this? Just another perk they kept for themselves. Incr
edible.
I looked at my status screen:
Miles Boone
Level 4
Exp: 6,243 (6,000 to next level)
Hit Points: 36 (8 +1 Con bonus per level)
Str 13 (+1)
Dex 12 (+1)
Con 13 (+1)
Int 13 (+1)
Wis 13 (+1)
Cha 12 (+1)
Luc 0* (-%$)
Titles: Wheeler Dealer, 1st Student of the Old Ways
Skills:
Novice Alchemy 0/250 to Beginner Level
Novice Blacksmithing 0/250 to Beginner Level
Novice Crafting 0/250 to Beginner Level
Novice Herbalism 0/250 to Beginner Level
Novice Leatherworking 0/250 to Beginner Level
Novice Mining 100/250 to Beginner Level
Beginner Spelunking 0/500 to Journeyman Level
Journeyman Trader 111/1000 to Master Level
Beginner Trap Detection 310/500 to Journeyman Level
Novice Trap Disarm 0/250 to Beginner Level
Feats:
Perception
*n/a
That feat really looked nice. Then I noticed another change. How was this possible? My wisdom score was wrong. It had been raised by +1. My butt hit the floor as I realized that all of the skills that Perception improved were Wisdom based.
The more amazing I felt about the bonus, the more I felt cold rage build against tthe Party, the Eastmans, and the other clans, and the whole stupid way The Game was rigged. Most folks, not even knowing that a feat was possible, would have to grind out four levels to get a stat increase. At higher levels, that meant at least a year’s work.
I went back to work. Unlocking this hidden bonus made it hard to get back into the mindset that had unlocked the feat. Excitement and expectation screwed up my equilibrium and the pace of my trap search slowed back down to a painful crawl, but bit by bit I got back into the right head-space.
I carefully cleared one room, one tunnel, after the next. There were rooms with more of the remains of the mine works that had been here before the kobolds had invaded. Rotting wood rails for mine carts ran down the middle of some of the tunnels. Other less recognizable remains of what had been before left enigmatic clues as to what this mine had been like in better days. It had been a large operation but bit by bit I plumbed all the side tunnels and caverns. The end was in sight.
Around the corner of what seemed to be one of the final tunnels came the sound of wheezing and roaring. This had to be the boss room. The final challenge of the dungeon sounded incredibly powerful. Whatever was making that racket had to be larger than me by a lot. I was so close to beating this dungeon, but if they threw a dragon or giant at me at the end I was doomed. My heart sank the louder the roaring became. I had accomplished so much, but it wouldn’t matter at all if the finale was something I couldn’t beat. All this time I had done my best not to think about the end boss of the dungeon. It was typically designed to make a party wipe unless they fought seamlessly and knew the tricks the end boss might throw at them. I was alone, under-leveled, and had no handy guide to what to expect.
After another round of meditation and casting invisibility, I made my way around the corner. Looking around for the giant beast I almost laughed when I saw what lay before me. The roaring came from an underground waterfall. Water came out from a small lip and fell into a pool that drained somewhere unseen back into the mountainside. The wheezing came from a giant bellows that was driven by a water wheel. The leather of the bellows had rotted away in spots but crude patches of some sort of skin--hopefully from an animal--covered the gaps. This was what made the wheezing sound I had heard--not a huge monster. It was some sort of mechanical method for keeping the air fresh down here in the mine.
I silently said a prayer of thanks. This dungeon was consistent in its theme. Traps and kobolds. From beginning to end it was all traps and kobolds. I still had a chance. I stopped myself from focusing on the final monsters and scanned the rest of the room. Past the bellows and waterfall there was a dark gap in the wall. This tunnel looked natural, as if the miners had reached an underground cave system perhaps worn out by the water that now was channeled off in a different direction. This inky blackness reached farther into the mountain. It was likely the exit from the dungeon. I was in a tunnel not an adit.
There was nothing else of interest to examine that my fear could use to justify delaying looking at the final encounter. Almost despite themselves my eyes were drawn to a crude altar festooned with bones and odd worked trinkets. Looming over the altar was a massive kobold chieftain. He was flanked by two shamans.
I analyzed him. Chieftain Grumth Wyrmmclaw. Level 11. Fuck. You never want to know the name of a mob. If it has a name it is strictly so it can tattoo that name on your ass as he hands it to you.
The two Shamans were at least not named bosses, but still… fuck. They were still high-level casters. I had been worried about confronting casters. My use of the web spell wouldn’t stop kobolds who could hurl their powers at me from a distance. And the chieftain likely had a ranged attack even if I was lucky enough to be able to hold him.
Normally, the tank would take the chieftain, the DDs would take down the casters as fast as possible, while the healer would try to keep everyone alive long enough to clear the encounter. I couldn’t tank the chieftain. I couldn’t heal. And the three of them would take me down before I could clear the casters. I’d be lucky to kill even one of the casters before they killed me.
Sitting with my back to the cave wall my breath hissed out in a deep sigh. Before anyone judges me, I’d like to say that I think my attitude was pretty good. Most people trapped in a dungeon by their enemies with a lifetime of slavery on the line while outnumbered by overpowering monsters would bitch and moan more than I think I did. No, I really had kept up a pretty “can do” attitude about my situation. And that attitude had paid off. I had cleared a floor of a dungeon that often took down higher level groups of four. You pull that off and then you can call me a whiny bitch if you want.
Looking at this shitty setup, no matter how I turned it over in my head I wasn’t clearing this group. Death was the natural outcome no matter how I came at it. There was no way to split up the group. Even if I did, the chieftain could take me down by himself unless I could web him--and I couldn’t see how I could split the group and also trap him.
This is where my previously mentioned positive attitude came into play. I ran away.
I decided to clear and search anything else I could find. Maybe there would be enough trash mobs that I could get myself up to level 21 and handle these three on my own. Maybe there would be a store down here that would sell me some armor impervious to attacks from Wyrmmdiggers. It would be called Wyrmmdiggers Bastion and it would have a set item bonus with Wyrmmdigger’s Bane that would let me waltz through the rest of the dungeon and also make my dick grow an extra three inches. Then I could take these guys on my own. Maybe I’d uncover an NPC trapped down here that I could rescue who would help round out my party--like a super hot elven enchantress who once freed could basically solo the dungeon for me and liked giving blowjobs too. Right.
Fuck my positive attitude. I was simply fucked. But my positive attitude wouldn’t let me just sit on my ass or log out. I was going to search every part of this dungeon I could without an automatic respawn. I still had to do the whole search-every-stupid-rock-and-pebble-in-the-whole-damned-cave-system-for-traps thing. I couldn’t even amble morosely. I had to crawl. If I thought that settling my brain down to the task of searching after the pleasant surprise of the feat system was hard, it was nothing compared to searching when I was convinced that the whole enterprise was an exercise in delusional positive thinking. See, some people’s positive thinking consists of seeing the world as a place where things will break their way and work out in the end. I have the other kind. The kind that assumes the world is out to screw you but sitting on your ass complaining about it for sure won’t work out well so you mi
ght as well spend days thoroughly reexamining rocks in the pointless and delusional hope that you will find… find… find…
Two days passed since I left the final boss room. Two days of nothing. A huge boulder was embedded in the wall of the tunnel I was working through. I had searched through here before and didn’t find any traps or anything else of interest. Once again, I carefully searched its edges. Out of the corner of my eye I thought I saw a faint blue light but when I looked over it disappeared. In the dim confines of these tunnels even with my Eyes of the Hunter the shadows often played tricks. But, I could swear I had seen a momentary dim glow. As I searched all around where I thought I had seen it, the blue glow, whatever it had been, didn’t reappear.
Blue was the sign of secret doors or compartments. I had seen it. I know I had. I did my best to repeat everything I had been doing when I saw the glow. Nothing. Positive thinking. Do it all again.